Macalister sat in his chair, his head tilted back and his blank eyes staring at the ceiling. His chest was a sodden mass of blood. His gun lay beside him on the floor, and near it were the shell casings, glinting in the light from the window.

  Looking at Macalister made him queasy in a way that he wasn’t prepared to deal with, so he turned back to the window and watched Pallo make his way across the courtyard towards the front gate.

  No one approached the office, and after ten minutes, Quentin decided that in the absence of all their leadership, they probably weren’t going to. He turned away from the window. Mazik still sat beside Bader. Viho was sitting beside him with a hand on his back. They were both crying.

  There was no way for Quentin to relate to their pain. This was the closing moment on a five-year-old wound, and a moment of justice for their lost family member. There was also the trauma of having killed someone that Mazik had to deal with, and Quentin realized with a start that that was something he could relate to.

  He hadn’t really processed the fact that he had shot Vincent Macalister and killed him. He looked over at the body, and the pool of blood on the floor around it. There was already a fly on Macalister’s face. He sensed that there was a wrecking ball of reality sweeping towards him, but it hadn’t arrived yet. He was still in shock.

  “Lehta,” he whispered.

  Lehta stood near the door, ready for anything. He looked over at Quentin.

  “Can you go look around the place and find a sheet or something that we can use to cover up these bodies?”

  Lehta nodded, and slipped out the door. He returned a few minutes later with a couple of thin blankets. Together, they covered Macalister; each at an awkward angle as they tried to avoid stepping in the blood.

  “Thanks, man. I’m already going to have nightmares about this; I sure don’t need to sit here and stare at him.”

  “You saved Mazik’s life. Maybe everyone’s life. You did the right thing.” Lehta stepped over to Quentin and gripped his forearm. “Thank you, my friend. You are welcome in my home.”

  Quentin returned the grip, feeling a flood of gratitude sweep over him. “Thank you for saying that.” His throat seized up, and he turned away as a rush of tears filled his eyes. It only lasted a moment, but he was tremendously relieved when it was over. His chest even managed to relax slightly. “You are welcome in my home, too. Well, you know, if I had one, you would be.” He could tell it was getting awkward, and clamped his mouth shut.

  Quentin turned to see Mazik climbing to his feet. He winced as he put pressure on his wounded leg, and hobbled over to Quentin, leaning on the desk for support. He surprised Quentin by wrapping him up in a fierce hug. The pressure on his bruised ribs hurt like hell, but he ignored it. Mazik stepped back after a moment, his face shiny.

  “You have given me many things today. You gave me freedom for my people. You gave me courage by your bravery. You gave me my life when Macalister tried to take it. I cannot repay you for these things, but you are my brother for life, and you will always be welcome in my home.”

  Quentin was at a total loss for words. He certainly didn’t feel like the kind of guy who had done those things. In contrast, he felt wretched, as if he had done something terribly wrong that couldn’t be undone.

  “You’re forgetting all the things that went wrong today. People died because of me, and that’s the most awful thing that could happen. I came here to try to stop bad things from happening, and instead I made it worse.”

  Viho clapped his hands once, and they turned to him.

  “When I was young, my grandfather told me that one day I would become the chief of the Bribri people. He told me that a great leader does two things well: first, they know the moral code of their people, and second, they know how to handle people who act outside that moral code. He said that sometimes you have to step away from the first one to accomplish the second one, but never to do that unless there was no other choice.”

  He looked up at Quentin, and spread his arms.

  “There was no other choice. When you are alone at night with your thoughts, remind them that there was no other choice. You did the only thing you could do.”

  Quentin nodded, not trusting his voice. He backed up against the wall and slid down to the floor, hugging his knees and embracing the throbbing heat in his chest.

  Lehta covered Bader’s body with the second blanket, then moved over to the window and looked around the camp as the room fell quiet. Quentin wished he had something to relieve the stinging in his arm. Eissa had the cream that had done the trick on his burned wrists, once he got back out there. That caused him to wonder how Eissa was doing with the wounded Bribri. The man she had cauterized came to mind, and he felt guilty for even acknowledging the pain in his arm and chest. That guy could complain about pain. This was nothing.

  He jumped when Lehta spoke, realizing that he had zoned out.

  “Gage is here.”

  Chapter 19

  They got to their feet, and Quentin quickly coached himself back into his role. The worst was over, but he still had a lot to do before this would be finished. He moved out to the front porch to meet Morgan Gage. The development of this relationship was more critical now than ever.

  “I heard it didn’t go very well.” Gage paused at the edge of the porch and put a foot up on the step, resting his elbow on his knee.

  “No, it didn’t go very well at all. Did Pallo tell you that Macalister and Bader are dead?”

  “Yeah, he told me.”

  Quentin looked down, shaking his head. “That wasn’t how I wanted it to go.”

  “That’s the only way it could have gone, really. The only thing that was an unknown was who would be standing when it was over.”

  “I need to find Bob and Tocho. I’m guessing there’s a guard wherever they are, so I waited for you so that no one else gets hurt.” He was putting it all on the line here. This would be the telling moment on where Gage stood. “Can you help me out with that? Are we still okay?”

  Gage looked around the camp, then back at Quentin. “Yes, I think we’re still okay. Let’s go get your friends, then we gotta sit down and make some plans and figure some things out.”

  Quentin breathed an inward sigh of relief. Gage seemed to be handling the situation better that he could have hoped for. “Should we go with you, or wait here?”

  “You can come with me. You’re okay with me here.”

  He set off walking down the side of the warehouse. Quentin waved at Lehta in the window of Macalister’s office, gesturing for them to follow, and stepped down off the porch.

  They rounded the corner at the back of the processing building, and Gage gestured to the lone guard at the door. “Open up, Dobson. It’s over.”

  The guard unlocked the padlock and pulled the chain out, stepping to one side. “What’s going on, boss? I heard shots fired in the camp, but no one’s been back here.”

  “We’ll have a meeting shortly and brief everyone, just hang tight.” Gage turned and motioned Quentin forward. “They’re going to look a little rough, so brace yourself. Keep in mind that this was all Macalister and Bader.”

  As the door opened, sunlight streamed into the dark room, illuminating a figure seated on one side. Quentin’s breath caught in his throat as he vaguely recognized Bob. His long white hair and bushy white beard identified him, but his face was swollen and purple, almost black in places. His beard was streaked with dried blood. He turned his head and raised a hand to shield his good eye from the sudden light.

  “Oh my God,” Quentin said. “Bob, it’s me, Quentin. How bad are you hurt? Can you talk? Is Tocho in there, too?”

  “Easy kid, one question at a time.” Bob’s chuckle turned into a rasping cough. “We’re okay, just a little frayed around the edges.”

  Tocho leaned forward into the light. “I’m doing much better than Bob. He always gets all the attention. It’s because he has a big mouth.”

  “Come on, let’s get you out of there,” Quentin said. “There’s some guys coming with litters, and we’ll get you out to the triage center so Eissa can take a look at you.”

  “I’ve had my ass kicked worse than this and walked away from it,” Bob said. He attempted to stand up, rolling to his side to avoid using his lower back. Tocho stood up and grabbed him by the armpits, lifting him up. “I might need a little help getting upright, but once I’m there, I ought to be okay.”

  “Yes, but you were ten years younger the last time that happened,” Tocho pointed out. “You’ll be grateful for the ride by the time they get here.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Bob took a shuffling step towards the door, and Quentin moved forward to help him down the step.

  “Where have you been, anyway?” Tocho asked. “We beat you here by two or three days.”

  “We must have taken a wrong turn in Albuquerque,” Quentin said with a grin. The fact that Bob and Tocho were alive and standing in front of him was a miracle. That they felt well enough to make jokes, despite the way they looked and felt, was almost enough to make him cry.

  “I guess you talked Macalister into your idea, huh? I’m impressed, I don’t mind saying. I kind of thought he’d be here to trip me down the stairs.” Bob grabbed Quentin’s shoulder and eased himself down the step with a grimace. “His flunky really did a number on my back.”

  “He did a number on your face, too. You look like shit.” Quentin turned to Gage. “Is there someplace we can get these guys a shower and some clean clothes?”

  “Macalister’s house. They can get cleaned up while we talk.” Gage turned to the guard. “Gather everyone up at the square; all the Bribri, all the guards. We’ve got to have that meeting right now.”

  The guard took off towards the fields, and they began walking slowly back up the side of the warehouse. Bob held on to Quentin’s arm as they went, and Tocho stayed on his other side. Viho and Mazik followed behind with Lehta and Gage.

  Quentin tried to come up with the right words to tell them what happened with Macalister and Bader. Bob expected people to get killed, and he had warned him over and over that it was probably going to happen, so he wasn’t going to be surprised about it. So, what was the problem in telling them that people were dead and wounded?

  Ego. Quentin almost smacked himself in the forehead. Of course, his pride wanted to be able to prove to Bob that it could be done with diplomacy instead of violence. He was looking at the situation as a defeat instead of a win because of his ego. He shook his head, grinning at his own idiocy.

  “Well, through a delicate balance of violence and diplomacy, we have achieved the first steps toward freedom and gainful employment for the Bribri,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder at Viho before continuing. “Vincent Macalister and Bader were casualties of their own cause, as well as three DimCorp guards out on the trail. We lost a Bribri man, too. I’m embarrassed that I don’t know his name.”

  “Wahdondah,” Viho said from behind them. “His name is Wahdondah. He made our fish traps. He could make anything.”

  Bob limped in silence for a few steps. “And Eissa?”

  “She’s running a triage center out in the jungle,” Quentin said. “There were several injuries when we met the trade convoy, as well as the deaths.”

  Bob grunted. They were nearing the end of the warehouse. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk this out. For right now, help me get up these steps. I feel like I’ve been rode hard, and put up wet.”

  “Me, too,” Tocho said. “I’m so stiff I can’t hardly move. I’m upgrading the bed situation at the cabin as soon as we get back. Two nights on a box helped me decide that.”

  Once Bob and Tocho were settled in at the shower area, Quentin and Gage went back down the hall and opened the door to Macalister’s office. The bodies lay where they had left them, and Quentin stopped in the doorway.

  “We covered them up. I couldn’t keep looking at Macalister.”

  “Is this the first time you’ve killed someone?” Gage asked.

  “Yes. And hopefully the last.”

  Gage lifted the blanket and looked underneath. He moved sideways to allow a path for light from the window, and whistled under his breath.

  “Damn, you really gave it to him, huh?”

  Quentin was uncomfortable thinking about it. “I guess so.” The expression on Macalister’s face as he swung the pistol towards Quentin was burned into his brain, guaranteed to resurface over and over. The curled lip, the hate-filled eyes that changed to shock and disbelief as the first bullet hit him in the chest, the pain that followed that, it was all there.

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Gage said. “He’s hurt a lot of people in his life. A lot of it was verbal abuse, psychological trauma, but I think that’s worse than physical pain for a lot of people. Every world is better off without him being in it.”

  “I’m not cut out to play God,” Quentin said. “I really feel horrible about it.”

  “That’ll back off with time. Right now, it’s all too fresh to be logical about it. You just gotta ride it out.” He let the blanket fall back in place, and turned to Bader’s body on the floor. “Now this guy, here’s somebody that needed to be killed, if anybody ever did. He’s a heartless, sadistic bastard that gets off on hurting people. He did most of the work on Bob, you know.”

  “Well, that makes me feel a little better,” Quentin said.

  “Let’s go outside and get some fresh air,” Gage said. “I’ll get some guys to bury these two down by the river somewhere.”

  Quentin let out a giggle before he could stop himself. Gage glanced at him with his eyebrows raised.

  “Sorry,” Quentin said. “I was just thinking about a dimension we went to by accident once that still had dinosaurs running around. We could take them there, and really mess with the archeologists that find them a few thousand years down the road.”

  Gage laughed. “Well, screwing up the historical record would be right up his alley, so there’s that.”

  They made their way out to the porch and sat down on a bench. A few birds were chirping, but it was otherwise quiet.

  “Well, let’s see,” Gage said. “I guess the first thing I need to do is figure out what to tell the crew. I gotta get the rest of them back here pretty quick, so they don’t panic and do something stupid.”

  “Yeah, you need them all to be on board with this. That might be hard with the trade convoy crew, since some of them got killed this morning.” Quentin suddenly remembered that they were still tied up. “The first group is restrained, so we need to get out there and release them.”

  Gage stood up. “You’re right, they’re going to be pissed. Where are they?”

  “Maybe another mile down the trail from where we met you, maybe a little less. The dead are at our triage center. Let’s talk to the ones that are here first, though. That way they aren’t standing up here wondering what to do with Viho and Mazik while we’re gone.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. One thing at a time.”

  “So, no one knows that Macalister and Bader are dead except for you and us. You need to decide what you’re going to tell your guys about that.”

  Gage debated for a moment. “I think we tell them the truth. No one will be surprised about it, and I don’t think too many of them will be very torn up about it.”

  “Okay. That makes burying them a little easier. Now then, over the next few days- ”

  “That’s the part I’m worried about. I don’t even know where to start.”

  Quentin pulled his notebook out of his pocket, wincing at his protesting ribs. He had a list of things from his brainstorming session a few days earlier that would be necessary for getting things moving, although at that time he thought he would be dealing with Macalister. There was a bullet hole through the edge of it, and he looked at it in wonder, smiling unconsciously. His notes were missing a few letters, but he was able to read around it. “I recommend that you form a committee. Pick a team leader or two from your guys who are smart and dependable, and probably Viho and Keme. It would be a good idea to ask Tahki Ana, too. Sit down and start planning and making lists. Figure out what all you want to do, what you’re going to need to do it, and in what order. That will get you started, and it will give you team support from both sides.”

  “That’s smart,” Gage said.

  Quentin shifted sideways to face Gage. “It’s going to take a lot of time to put this together. The Bribri village out there can’t move here until you have a place for them to live. Don’t try to put everyone to work in the fields tomorrow. You need a planning team, a shopping team that gets materials together from somewhere, a construction team, and so on.”

  “I’ve got a couple of guys who are really experienced builders. They’ll be a major asset in figuring that stuff out.”

  “Perfect,” Quentin said. “And you need to expect to have some conflict. This is going to be a hard transition for people on both sides. You need to have a lot of training sessions, like ten minutes before every meal, where you talk about conflict resolution. Don’t hide it, put it out in front. This is going to be a huge culture change for everyone, and it’s going to have plenty of challenges. It’ll be worth it, but you might have to remind them of that now and then.”

  Gage nodded. A line of Bribri men came around the corner on the far side of the warehouse near the mess hall. Gage stood and stepped down into the dirt.

  “Everyone gather around,” he called out. “We’ll wait until everyone gets here.”

  Quentin turned as the door beside him opened. Viho stepped out on to the porch, and suddenly ran out into the courtyard.

  “Keme!” Viho shouted. “Keme!”

  Quentin watched as a man stepped out of the group of Bribri and raced towards Viho. They crashed together in a bear hug, shuffling in a circle as they tried to keep from falling. At last, they managed to pull apart.

  “You look terrible,” Keme said. “You look like an old man. I guess I probably do, too.”

 

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